


Even tiny homes can house huge hearts

by DarkmoonSigel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:36:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: A series of short stories about the Ineffable Idiots being in love.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little series of ideas that need a home.

After the Apocalypse of Not, they found that they couldn’t keep too long from one another. Crowley would get flashbacks of the bookstore burning, or Gabriel telling Aziraphale to just shut up and die.

On his part, Aziraphale would remember his ultimatum, and how it almost happened.

They didn’t talk about it. They would at some point when it wasn’t so vividly fresh. They just chose to stay close to one another, Aziraphale returning with Crowley to his flat. More often than naught, Crowley would just stay over at the bookshop and in Aziraphale’s rarely used upstairs flat. One of the first things Crowley did was get the angel a decent bed, his previous one something dire from the 1800’s.

“What in heaven is that atrocity?” Crowley asked upon seeing it. 

“It’s a bed, of course.” 

“From what bleeding era?” Crowley spat out, glaring at the offense to sleep.

“You know I don’t sleep. I’ve never had the knack for it.”

“Then why have one at all?” Crowley asked.

“Well...you do. Slept away most of a century if I recall correctly.” Aziraphale said, hesitant and suddenly shy. “I got one just in case you ever needed to stay over.”

Crowley could only stare at his blushing angel. Aziraphale who had worried constantly about them being found out had gotten a bed purely for Crowley’s own preferences. 

Crowley told himself not to cry as he snapped that travesty of a bed out of existence to replace it with something far superior.

“Have you considered that you’ve never slept before because you’ve been doing it all wrong?” Crowley pointed out.

“Are you offering to take me to bed, you wily old serpent?” Aziraphale asked with a twinkle in his eyes, making it the easiest thing in the world for Crowley to reach for his angel. He fell back, taking Aziraphale along with him, the pair laughing into a ridiculously high thread count


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t something he noticed immediately. It took a few millennia of an odd assortment of occurrences for it to click. Roses blooming in the dead of winter was the most telling.

“Oh, thank you, my dear.” Aziraphale said with a gentle smile, one that threatened to make Crowley blush. The feeling only deepened when a sweet scent caught the demon’s attention. He dared to look back over his shoulder to see all the park’s rose bushes were in full bloom, looking like drops of blood on fresh snow.


	3. Chapter 3

They had started off the same in the beginning wing-wise- same color, same shape, same everything.

Earth had a funny way of moulding its inhabitants though, and Crowley and Aziraphale were no exceptions to this. Their long stay there had changed them, and they had changed themselves as well. Aziraphale’s wings were much fuller and softer than the average angel. They reminded Crowley of a snowy owl’s wings, the way they seemed to absorb all the sound around them.

Crowley’s own had become much sharper and streamline in form and function. They more resembled a hawk’s wing now due to his nature and grooming habits.

The demon realized this difference between them fully on a very cold, snowy day. Crowley has not prepared, wearing only a few layers, and by the time he bothered to notice, he was chilled down to his bones. 

Aziraphale’s wings covered him easily, from top of head to tip of toe, with very little effort. Aziraphale has more than enough feathers to spare as the angel stood behind the demon, engulfing Crowley with his wings. 

“I’m perfectly fine you know.” Crowley grumbled through chattering teeth as he sidled in closer, running his fingers over soft feathers. 

“I’m well aware.” Aziraphale said, not moving away from the demon, something that Crowley was very grateful for. “Indulge me.” 

One would think that the bookshop would be full of molted feathers, but that was not the case. Each stray feather was lovingly collected, mostly without the owner’s notice. Unbeknownst to many, Crowley slept on a mattress stuffed with Aziraphale’s feathers, his pillows filled with the angel’s downiest castoffs. 

What Crowley had failed to realize was that Aziraphale had his own collection of inky feathers. He used them as quills, bookmarks, and other keepsakes, all stored away up in the flat that Crowley tended to forget the angel had until he had been moved into it. Aziraphale has a fondness for the demon’s feathers, beautiful and iridescent as an oil spill.

When Aziraphale’s wings were out, Crowley couldn’t help but notice how many eyes remained upon him. In the beginning of all things, Crowley thought it was because Aziraphale didn’t trust him. As time progressed though, the demon realized that the angel simply couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. There was always a few sets that unblinkingly tracked Crowley. There was no ill intent or malice in those eyes. It was something more to admiration if Crowley had to pair an emotion to those gazes. 

Whenever he would smile at them, Aziraphale would blush.


	4. Chapter 4

They both had tells. Crowley’s own were just a little more noticeable. He would hiss his words, his eye would become more serpentine, and delicate scale patterns would emerge on his skin when the demon became tired, or stressed out, or when he simply stopped paying attention. 

Aziraphale had his own of course too. He was an enormous celestial being larger than the size of London packed into a tiny human sized meat suit after all. Details tended to leak out from time to time. What would have delighted a human, and consequentially, a certain demon was that Aziraphale would glow when he was truly happy or excited. A not so appealing tell, at least to humans, was that the angel’s many eyes would open.

Luckily such things usually only happened on a level of reality that only Crowley and others of their kind could see before it actually manifested itself into perceived reality. It was the sort of in-between space that witches, ghosts, monsters, and Others could peek into as well. Cats too for some odd reason or another, but there you go.

Some particularly vexing customer must have been in the shop, some human having the audacity to come in wanting to buy a book from a bookshop. Crowley knew instantly as soon as he stepped in that Aziraphale was quite upset. 

All the eyes in his face, down to his neck, were open. The additional eyes followed the lines of Aziraphale’s face. They were not places at random as some human artists would take liberations with. They adorned the angel’s face like some strange living paisley pattern, working with the curvatures of his form and flesh. 

“What’s got you into such a twist?” Crowley grinned to have all the eyes glare at him, the angel in quite a huff.

“Someone just tried to buy one of my bibles!” Aziraphale filled in what the demon already suspected, “They were quite insistent about it.”

“The cheeky bastards.” Crowley said, tucking back a laugh. “Close up. We’ll go out.”

Aziraphale would close the bookshop for any reason. It really didn’t take much, and it was currently the type of weather that Crowley loved. His favorite type was the fine misting rain that one could only really find in England, and Portland, Oregon. It was the type of rain that made ‘damp’ a color. 

This type of rain though had the tendency to collect like fine dew on spider webs and an angel’s wings alike. It make Aziraphale’s wings sparkle like they were covered in a diamonds. 

In Crowley’s opinion, there was nothing more beautiful.


	5. Chapter 5

Aziraphale was a thinker. He liked to dwell in the middle of thoughts, feel out their nuisances, and poke about in their nooks and crannies. 

The Apocalypse hadn’t been much of a thing while still being very much a thing, a fantastic example of the more things change, the more they stay the same. It was a lot to take in. Being free was quite a lot to accept, but Aziraphale found he was doing so with more ease than he’d thought he was ever capable of. He had a deeper appreciation for the term ‘breathing-room’ now. Aziraphale was truly experiencing it for the first time in his existence. He found it surprising how much he enjoyed it, and when the angel enjoyed something, he committed himself wholeheartedly to that pleasure.

Aziraphale decided that steps would have to be taken to protect this new state of being. Luckily, the angel was a hoarder of knowledge. He had a book, several in fact, that would be useful in that endeavor. Carefully modified sigels of protection were carved, painted, and burned into different parts of the bookshop. Infernal, ethereal, and everything else in between type of wards were layered in on top of that as well, followed by a healthy dash of blessings to round everything out.

Crowley was moved into the bookshop, the demon and most of his material possessions placed into the mostly unused flat upstairs. The demon hadn’t really had any say in the matter, but he also hadn’t put up any opposition to the notion either. Crowley knew that Aziraphale was a thinker, but the demon also knew that once his angel came to a decision, he did so with a finality that rivaled even death. 

Crowley was a doer. He had a deep appreciation for grand gestures, so when Aziraphale turned up unannounced at his flat one morning, the demon knew something big was about to happen, and it was going to be extraordinary in nature. Aziraphale had his own unique flair for the dramatic.

“Everything alright, angel?” Crowley finally asked after a long moment of Aziraphale studying him and the contents of his flat. The demon had been getting ready to binge watch some Golden Girls when he had felt Aziraphale pass through his wards. The demon had found the angel in his living room, and there they remained.

“Tip top, dear. I was just wondering if all this would fit.” Aziraphale sounded like he was more thinking aloud than actually answering Crowley. “Of course, you can arrange it however you like. All I ask is that you leave the shop part of it alone.”

“Arrange what? The shop part of what? What are you going on about?” Crowley asked, the angel nodding to himself about something. Aziraphale answered him with a double snap of miracles, the demon and all the contents of his flat now suddenly elsewhere. 

Elsewhere turned out to be the bookshop’s upstairs, Crowley recognizing the unfrequented space after a stunned moment. 

“What in the nine rings of Hell did you do to your wards?” Was what worked its way out of Crowley’s mouth. The bookshop was practically vibrating a solid hum from all the additions placed over it. 

“Improved upon them. Tell me if you wish to place any changes of your own. Just let me know beforehand. As they say, I had to ‘wing out’ on some of the trickier sigels.” Aziraphale said in a strange upbeat voice, and even stranger smile. Crowley recognized it for what it was. Aziraphale was nervous about something.

“It’s ‘wing it’.” Crowley sighed as he studied the wards. He tried to feel upset about Aziraphale essentially kidnapping him out of the blue, but the demon couldn’t even create a spark of ire. Quite the opposite actually, a feeling more akin to ‘oh fuck this is happening! This is finally happening!’ was tentatively blossoming in Crowley’s center. It was taking his everything not to react. He had to be sure though before he let himself fully invest in the momentum. 

Of late, they had been spending all their time together. Crowley only left Aziraphale’s presence because he thought the angel would eventually tire of him if the demon were constantly there by his side or under foot. Whenever he left Aziraphale’s presence, Crowley would sit around in his dark flat, rewatching his favorite shows so he wouldn’t stare down the clock. He could barely keep himself from counting down the seconds until he felt it was safe enough to return. Apparently, Aziraphale didn’t feel the need for breaks, or speed limits anymore. The angel had switched gears from ‘you go too fast’ to ‘prepare to go to warp’

“Well, have at it. I’ve already cleared out all the books and everything else up here so you can do what you like with it.” Aziraphale said with more confidence than he was currently feeling. Crowley thought if the angel kept adjusting his vest like that, the rest of the velvet would come right off, and his bowtie would soon end up shredded. 

“Where’s my car?” Was the only real concern Crowley was currently feeling. 

“Parked outside like it normally is. Crooked and in the way with one wheel up on the curb, of course.” Aziraphale said, trying to maintain his bravado, but Crowley wasn’t really giving him anything back to work with. Out of all the scenarios he had run in his head, a vaguely confused yet accepting demon had not been one of them. 

“Course it is.” Crowley said, nodding his head. “You sure about...this? You really want us to live in each other’s pockets? I won’t...be in the way?”

“No! I mean, yes. I mean...you should stay here. With me.” Aziraphale said tightly, getting ready for some sort of tirade. 

There was no such thing camping in Crowley’s mouth, no harsh words residing there. The feeling from before, the one that had taken root in his chest was threatening to overwhelm him now. In all fairness to the demon, he had just been given what he been longing for some 6,000 years. Crowley was doing his best not to discorporated on the spot from sheer relief, disbelief, and surprise. 

All the pent up nervous energy that the angel had been trying to pass off as confidence left him in a rush, Aziraphale visibly deflating in front of Crowley. “Please don’t be angry with me.” He said in a small voice as he twisted his hands into knots.

It was then that Crowley realized that he had been staring at Aziraphale, and not saying anything for a while now. The longer he did so, the more brittle Aziraphale became around his edges. To his own personal horror, Crowley watched as tears began to slide down the angel’s cheeks.

“Crowley, I’m so-“ Aziraphale said as he started to crumble. He didn’t get very far in that, the angel acquiring quite a bit of demon wrapped tightly around him.

“I only ever left because I thought you would want space.” Crowley said as he kissed the tears off of Aziraphale’s face, and continued on to his lips, forehead, and anywhere else he could reach. 

“I think there has been enough space between us. I want to spend the rest of forever, and whatever happens after that, with you by my side.” Aziraphale managed to say under the barrage of quick kisses. “I want you home.”

“Home? I’m home?” Crowley was brought up short, the demon paused by shock. He said the word like it was foreign to him, and it was. Crowley had never been home before. Yes, he had lived in many, many places, but they were never home. He had been kicked out of Heaven, and he didn’t belong to Hell. He hadn’t had a home for 6,000 years. 

“Welcome home, darling.” Aziraphale said as soft and sweet as the angel he was. He had made a home here when he quietly realized that Heaven wasn’t one anymore, and now after all this time, it was finally complete.

“You’re home.”


	6. Chapter 6

“I wouldn’t go back there if I were you.” 

Aziraphale said this pleasantly enough in warning. There was always someone new in town, trying to make a name for themselves. The crime syndicate of London typically steered clear of the strange little bookshop in Soho, but someone always thought that they would be the first.

“That where you keep the good stuff?” One of the men in dark suits and worse intentions smirked, “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to them, would ya?” 

Bemused, Aziraphale watched as the very mad men paid him no heed, heading to the back despite his warning. Aziraphale followed, knowing the men wouldn’t be staying much longer. 

“No, it’s just that Crowley tends to nap back there in the afternoon.” Aziraphale said, observing that all the men had gone quite pale and still upon entering the backroom.

It should be noted that snakes don’t stop growing, and Crowley was no exception to this, though he could change his shape like any other demon. Sometimes, one wishes to get comfortable though, and not be bothered by other being’s determination of normal. 

With a head easily the size of a human’s torso, Crowley entirely filled up the backroom, his great coils taking full advantage of the space. It was to the point now that Aziraphale could comfortably sit upon the serpent like he were a giant scaly loveseat.

None of the men were feeling too particular brave when Crowley made a great show of yawning, unhinging his jaw to show off a mouth full of wicked, sharp looking teeth. The men froze in place when Crowley deigned to look over at them, his thick tongue flicking in and out like a bullwhip. 

No one said a word as Aziraphale brushed past the very bad men to sit down on the giant snake, obviously old habit as he nonchalantly picked up a book, pulling the snake’s great head into his lap to start petting it.

“Did you gentleman need anything? I was getting ready to close up shop for the day.” Aziraphale said in a tone that firmly stated that they were already closed, and had been closed for some time now. “Crowley here and I were just about to nip out for something to eat. Unless you plan on joining us, I would suggest you leave. Leave while you still can.”

The bad men dressed in dark suits and worse intentions left in a great hurry, never to be seen again in this part of Soho.

“What was that all about?” Crowley grumbled as he snuggled in tighter around his angel.

“Nothing, dear one.” Aziraphale said, kissing the top of a scaly head. “Go back to sleep.”


	7. Chapter 7

Crowley found Aziraphale’s flat more to be an afterthought than anything, so much unlike his own flat. Books were stacked haphazardly everywhere on top of mismatched furniture that time had forgotten. A jug from Rome’s heyday sat on top of a very Victorian end table, the like of which held company with a butter churn. The butter churn’s presence perplexed the demon, Crowley trying to imagine Aziraphale taking the time and effort to make his own butter. 

There was a wardrobe that could have been built in the 14th century. Crowley hated it upon sight. It had bits and pieces of clothing Aziraphale had acquired over the centuries, preferring the real thing to creating his own like the demon did. 

Numerous generations of spiders had lived and died here, along with their neighboring rare breed of mice who knew not to even breathe funny in the general direction of a book. Same went for the bats who did their business outside.

“It’s like a bloody zoo in here!” Crowley said, grimacing at the desolation around him. “How do you live like this?”

“Crowley, I hardly come up here.” Aziraphale sighed, all while giving the loft a hard look like it was for the first time. “Oh dear, it is a bit of mess, isn’t it?”

“You think?!” Crowley said with a Look in his serpentine eyes. “Leave it to me.”

And with that, the demon banished the angel downstairs. “Please don’t yell at the mice or the bats. They know to do their naughty business elsewhere.” Aziraphale called up the stairs. 

“They had better.” Crowley glared, making several bats leave to do their immediate business elsewhere. With the exception in regard to books and clothing, many things where disappeared.

So Crowley overhauled the entire loft, and to Aziraphale’s tentative surprise, he loved it. It was both their home now, in every sense of the word.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Your comments collect angel feathers. Your kudos look for demon feathers.


End file.
